A great poet lies deep within every heart,
Waiting for that special 'rain day' to open its door.
And as he comes out breaking the chains of restlessness,
He resembles the genie that never tires.
And what a realization!
An year ago, I despised a few and liked a few.
Now I have no distinction.
Everything is like that 'rainy day' filled with beauty and bliss.
The dusk and the dawn, the dead and the alive, the dew drop and the blue ocean,
The war and the peace, the wrinkles and the smooth and slippery, You and me.
The poet hardly finds any difference,
Immersed in that state of blissfulness where words flow like a gentle stream.
I know the 'real journey' has only just begun.
The flight to the Oneness guided by the pure and transparent words,
Is all joy and ecstasy increasing at every step further.
Finally when I reached It, the words just wouldn't come to me.
I have for the first time realised my inability and also the vanity in describing It.
